Chapter 13
Leo walked slowly into the cabin, letting go of Maya's hand as he approached the edge of the cot where Alejandro was sitting. Maya hung back near the doorway, respecting the invisible boundary of grief that filled the room. Leo stopped a few feet away, looking down at the sketchbook resting on Alejandro's knees. "That's mom's book," Leo said softly, his voice echoing slightly in the small space. "I know," Alejandro replied, his voice rough and unsteady. He looked up at the boy, seeing not just a ghostly reminder of his youth, but an independent, resilient human being who had survived the harshest winter imaginable against all logical odds. Alejandro held out the sketchbook, offering it handle-first. "Do you want to keep it?" Leo hesitated, his fingers twitching at his side. Then, slowly, he stepped forward and took the book, cradling it against his chest with the exact same protective care he had shown the silver rose pendant. "She drew you," Leo whispered, looking down at the cover. "She said you were an artist of tall buildings." Alejandro let out a wet, broken chuckle, shaking his head. "I wasn't an artist, Leo. I was just a builder who forgot what he was building for." He stood up from the cot, towering over the boy, but this time there was no barrier between them. He reached out and placed his hand gently on Leo's shoulder, feeling the solid, living warmth beneath the flannel shirt. "We're going to pack up what matters," Alejandro said, his voice clearing, growing steady and firm. "We're going to take your mother's things, and we're going to go home. All of us." Leo looked up, searching Alejandro's face for the last remaining traces of doubt. Finding only absolute, unwavering conviction, the boy nodded, a small, tentative smile finally breaking through the stubborn resistance of his expression. Maya stepped forward from the doorway, breaking the heavy tension with a bright, innocent grin. "Can we find some firewood before we go?" she asked. "It's freezing in here."
